The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Ruling

Able sat alone.

The king had withdrawn with his advisers to review the proposed claim. Lark was seated between her mother and sister beneath a wide painting of hounds flushing out quail on the opposite side of the gallery. By all appearances, Lark was cheered by their discussion, overseen as it was by Queen Eminence's prowling Black Sword bodyguard. He directed most of his suspicious attention to the trio of Borealunders that were quietly partaking of refreshments and trying to figure out how to sit on a divan.

Able could have sat with them, of course. But he couldn't sit with Lark, couldn't even openly support Lark for the foreseeable future. He was drained to dregs and just needed his own space right now.

He wasn't to get it, though. Prince Acumen sauntered over and slid onto the cushion beside him. "Able Houser, is it?"

"That's right, your Highness." Able took a deep breath to rouse himself and hoped he was prepared for whatever this was.

The second prince flashed a winning, lop-sided smile. "They tell me you are the mastermind behind all of this."

Able dropped a laugh in surprise. "Who is telling you that?"

"Pillar, mostly," and he shrugged comfortably.

Certainly, Pillar said nothing of the sort. What angle was the prince playing? "Ah. I'm not sure what he means. I contributed what I could, of course, but my expertise wasn't exactly what was needed here."

"Right, right, 'humble chronicler,'" the prince magnanimously allowed. "Simply unraveling a decade-long mystery by pure luck."

"Bad luck, more like." Able forced a wry smile. "Not sure how much of the story you heard."

Acumen leaned in close so that his whisper drifted across Able's face, "However you want to reframe your prior knowledge of my brother's kidnapping, I know enough about the art of investigation that it alone doesn't explain your success—especially given how you found one of my contacts. I can always find a use for someone like you."

The weight of how many things Able would have to consider now pressed his eyes closed.

"You have to think about it?" Acumen seemed shocked.

Able had to be careful. "My apologies, your Highness—I think about everything. But yes, you see...I am the son of a dead fisherman who many already say has climbed far above my station. If the university took me to pieces, what might the court do?"

"Humble fisherman, now, is it?" Acumen laughed and stood. "Well, you think about it, then! In the meantime, I'll figure out what it is you're trying to hide. We'll see who contacts the other first, shall we?"

Able looked up at that that somewhat familiar winning smile, still charming despite its chilling effect, and could not help but raise his eyebrow. Fortunately, the second prince seemed untroubled by it as he waltzed on his way.

How secure and bored must someone be to make a game out of someone else's life? He'd tried the adaged stick not a breath after trying the carrot. Able hadn't even sorted himself out of the current tangle of knots, and here his lover's brother was trying to cast a new one around his neck. Probably he should just accept that whatever life he managed to have with Lark would always be a tangle.

An aide arrived to inform them that the king was ready to reconvene. Able followed the groups of people back in and watched the royals and their retainers head to the floor, the officials convene on one side with their aides, and the Borealunders settle at the back by the door. He took a breath, let it out, then went to stand with the lawyers at the back, on hand to clarify any technical questions. Seemed the closest match.